Our Beagle Fonzie was a handful with all of his disappearances; we eventually
found a way to limit the amount of times that he’d try to escape. We increased
his walks and we added a doggie door opening at the side of the house so that
he’d have a view of the street in front, and a place to play outside in the rear
of the house. My allergies were under control as long as I didn’t touch him or
have him sleep in our bedroom. Life with Fonzie became manageable.

One night as we were readying for sleep Arlene said, “Fonzie must be lonely
sleeping in the living room by himself.” My response was, “Nu, so are you
telling me you want to sleep in the living room with him?” “Not at all. I want
another dog for him.” I was not enthusiastic about that idea. We had enough
animal dander in the house already. “Maybe he’d like a small Guinea Pig to keep
him company?” “Mel, he’s a hunter; he’d kill it.”
We both agreed to get a second dog. We’d continue our rules for managing the
allergies by keeping them out of our room and off me and the furniture.

Arlene and the boys waved to me with big smiles on their faces as they headed
off to the pound and returned with a Doberman – Beagle mix…a “ Beagleman”. The
boys had named her by the time they returned home. A child can name a dog within
seconds; an adult can take days or weeks to make a decision. I have a friend
that has had a dog for two years and has still not chosen a name. He calls it
“dog”.

Fonzie quickly took a liking to Princess and became very protective of her. I
have a photo of Arlene holding Princess in her hands; she was so little that she
looked like a miniature dog. Then the day came when she towered over Fonzie. I
think he never noticed that because in his doggie mind she always was his baby.
He’d lick and clean her, he taught her how to use the doggie door and poop
outside, how to get in trouble when he led the escape, and they were a good
match temperament-wise. We only had to teach her simple commands and she was a
fast learner and an easy puppy to raise. Both dogs were calm and people always
asked if Princess was Fonzie’s mom. I enjoyed watching them running and playing
together; they always made me smile.

The cat’s meow

The menagerie was growing with reptiles, birds and fish in our home as well as
the dogs. As I left to work one morning I noticed a black and white kitten
sitting in front of our home. I carefully approached him and quietly said, “Go
home if you like your freedom. There are a bunch of crazies in that house.
They’ll adopt you and have you neutered. Run, run.” As I opened the door to my
office I heard the telephone ringing. I quickly answered. It was Lewis, our
younger son. “Guess what Dad. We now have a kitten”. He then proceeded to tell
me the story of how he found a black and white kitten in front of our home and
how it really likes him, “He purred when I picked him up; can I keep him?” he
asked. “Lew, you know I’m allergic to cats. The only way we can keep him is if
he lives outside. Now that wouldn’t be kind or fair, would it?” He handed the
phone to Arlene, “Yes, dear we’ll keep him outside; you can build a little house
and it can be heated. That’s how mittens became part of our family; he lived to
be sixteen-years-old. He commanded respect. When we’d walk out the door with
Fonzie and Princess, Mittens would be waiting. The dogs would walk around him
being careful not to get too close or risk a swat, and then we’d all go for our
walk. Mittens walked close to houses, stopping to hide near trees to make sure
he was safe, and we walked in the street. He’d greet me when I came home from
work by jumping on the hood of my car and walking towards my side window. I only
petted Mittens once and that was before the vet put him down. I wish I could
have petted him more.

Little Fonzie lived with us for seventeen years before he died and we have his
ashes sitting on a shelf in the family room. We have all our pets in containers
with their photos on them (The furry pets, that is.)

It’s only temporary

Our eldest son dated a girl that worked for a veterinarian and asked if we’d
foster a puppy for a few days, to save her from being destroyed. They soon
stopped dating so we temporarily watched Meg for sixteen years. It’s funny how
those things work. Well, puppy Meg loved Princess and she’d jump on her when she
was sleeping and bite her ears and tease her just as Princess had done to Fonzie
when she was a puppy. Princess would lick Meg and clean her as Fonzie had done
to her. Meg had become Princess’ “baby” and they were good together.

Meg became our shadow and would follow us from room to room. I’d often play hide
and seek with her and hide and just yell her name and she’d begin the search.
There was no hiding from her, she always found me. When Princess passed we drove
down to the no kill shelter to find a friend for Meg. We noticed a blonde
terrier mix running free in the shelter. She approached Arlene to be petted. I
asked why the dog was not caged and was told that the dog had been in the
shelter for a long while and has full freedom to roam around. “She really likes
women and will sit on our lap to be petted or next to us when we eat. Her name’s
Scruffy”. A scruffy looking dog, she looked as if she had been born from the
same litter as Meg, only she as an apricot color. We were now guardians of a
blonde dog for my beautiful blonde wife and a black dog for me with my black
hair.

I quickly learned that “she likes women” means she hates men; if a man gets too
close he’ll most likely get bitten. She runs around free means we’re all too
scared to even put her in a cage; she’ll bite our fingers…she’s a pit bull in
terrier clothing.” One of my wife’s many wonderful attributes is that she can
make what seems impossible work out well. She told me never to touch Scruffy, or
play with her, and then she would fit right into our family. I wasn’t allergic
to the Terriers so they were allowed in our room at night. The only time I’d
have to confront Scruffy was to make her move off of my side of the bed; she
raced me to the bedroom at night and got up on the bed before I did. I aimed my
water gun at her and she was gone. After all, how long can a grown man sleep on
the floor? She eventually got the message.

Both pups lived with us for fourteen wonderful years and ultimately joined our
other friends on the shelf.

The Bichons

Arlene realized that I had not experienced the physical and emotional attachment
that the rest of the family had towards our dogs in the past. Now that we were
empty nesters she thoughtfully sought out a breed that I could enjoy as much as
she. What does that mean? It means that I am now able to feed, bathe, brush,
groom, and do the work necessary to keep them healthy. Having an allergy isn’t
always a bad thing, but having a wise wife can be. The Bichon Frise breed won
out. Our first Bichon was purchased from a couple that was recommended to us by
a friend. We were both drawn to the same puppy and would not negotiate for a
living creature but did ask that we be given a fair price. Our Granddaughter
Brenda immediately named her Angel, something she definitely was not. We were
ready to return her after two weeks; she was a chewer and her teeth were so
sharp we bled. We thought we had purchased the dog from hell. This was soon to
change. Angel now loves to greet everyone coming to visit us and feels that
they’re coming to visit her; she loves everyone. Her one fault is that she will
give too many kisses and lick you to death. When Angel was two, my honey
suggested we adopt a rescued Bichon from Small Paws Rescue. Arlene and I always
seek G-d’s will in our decision making and having viewed about 50 photos of dogs
on the Petsavers website, we prayed for guidance and when we awoke we both chose
the same little guy, “Joey”. We paid for Joey’s physical exam and airfare into
Jacksonville. Two months had passed and we noticed that Joey was having
difficulty jumping up on the couch so we took him to our vet. X-rays were taken
and it was determined that he had a ruptured disc. There are a limited amount of
surgeons within the USA that perform this surgery and two were within five miles
of our home. We emptied our bank account and had the surgery performed. The
recovery time was three months; during that time we wheeled Joey around in a
human wheel chair for R&R; he needed to not walk for all that time. It was hard
for all of us. Soon Joey was able to walk and jump again. Within a few years,
Joey injured his left leg and spent another three months being pushed in a wheel
chair. Angel liked to jump up there and join him some of the time. It was very
sweet, each using the other as a pillow. Would you believe that a few years
later, Joey injured his right leg? So it wasn’t a surprise when I saw Arlene
walking towards me with Joey in a wheel chair again and Angel walking on a
leash.

A lot of love

It’s difficult to describe the joy that’s received from taking on the
responsibility of a dog. Some of our most wonderful memories have included our
four legged friends. It’s always sad when one dies but the memories stay with us
a lifetime. I receive a lot of love from our dogs. They always keep me company,
never ask to use the remote, sit on my lap with their heads against my tummy and
listen to me tell the same joke or story over and over again without once
saying, I’ve heard that before. If you’ve never had a cat or dog live with you,
try it; there is much to be gained. Their companionship is wonderful.